


In Your Arms The End Is In My Eyes

by Hail_hawkeye



Series: Hannibal Lecter's Unconventional Love Language [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Fever, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannigram - Freeform, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sick Will Graham, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29053950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hail_hawkeye/pseuds/Hail_hawkeye
Summary: The symptoms had started slowly. He'd convinced Hannibal that it was all caused by the stress of moving, but Will knew better.It was just a matter of time until everything went south.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Hannibal Lecter's Unconventional Love Language [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095266
Comments: 5
Kudos: 107





	In Your Arms The End Is In My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Installment 3!  
> Inspired by the song "All's Well That Ends" by Rainbow Kitten Surprise  
> I'm hoping nothing is too medically inaccurate (I have some background but not to this extent)
> 
> S/o to my beta readers!  
> -Em  
> -@Milsta

The plates rattled threateningly in the cupboard as the doors were forcibly slammed shut in the cabin of the _Iscariot_.

“This is so violently unlike you. Reckless stupidity, putting you and I in danger. When did you stop giving a shit about our safety, huh? Was it while you were blaring down the streets on your motorcycle? Or perhaps it was when you were pulled over for going _25_ _over_ the limit. You could’ve been _killed_ Hannibal.”

Will’s voice came out abrasive, with an insatiable anger sitting in the pit of his stomach, as he continued.

“We were settling in so well. I was applying to a teaching a position at the local university. We have been so careful and safe for years, but one measly 250-euro ticket is going to cost us everything we’d started to build here.”

Packing and moving back onto the boat had been a rapid process between the labor of the two men. They had kept their belongings modest in the event a quick escape was required, but Will had found himself embracing faith, praying to some power that the situation would be avoided. Within a day of acquiring the troublesome sheet of paper, they had set sail, leaving the coast of Greece and their identities behind them.

Hannibal’s taciturnity ate at Will in a feral predatory way as he gripped the counter, white-knuckled with tremors running through and down his bad shoulder.

“The things you put me through consistently. We should count our blessings that I haven’t keeled over from stress up until this point, but if I die in my sleep tonight it might just be welcomed.”

“It was merely an error in judgement Will. Man is not impermeable to bouts of childish interest. The streets were clear, and I mistakenly assumed there to be a lack of monitoring by the local police. You and I are cognizant to the fact that I am well-versed in the safety and handling of a motorcycle.”

Hannibal’s voice remained unbothered as he leafed through his current literature, _Ultime Letter Di Jacopo Ortis_.

“Your excuses for apologies are abhorrent. Would it really kill you to say ‘ _Will, I am dearly sorry for my miscalculation. I promise it will never happen again_.’” Will mocked, as he turned sharply to stare at the other man who peered up at him over the top of his thin-rimmed glasses.

“An apology implies remorse in one’s actions. I feel no ill-will towards what transpired, simply that it was done in poor-taste. Had the officers been twenty yards farther the aftermath would have been different. To put it simply, it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Leaving our cabin is purely a security measure in the event my photograph appears within any system.”

Will meditated on the idea of throttling the man in front of him, as he closed his eyes, allowing deep breaths to quell the rage threatening to boil over.

“You are unbelievable. Absolutely blind to the gravity of this situation. To the fact that this encroaches on my life too.”

“If you believe I am not bothered about this plight you are mistaken. I’d find it wise for you to step away and gather your thoughts before you make any remarks or execute any actions you may regret.” Hannibal kept his intonation level, the only evidence of his own temper being the leisurely method in which he slid a ribbon into his book, shutting it and placing it onto the dining table sitting in front of the couch.

“You do not get to tell me what to do right now Hannibal. You’re treading on thin ice and ordering me around is quickly becoming a driving force for me to leave you to drown.” Will grit out, an accusatory finger pushed up against the older man’s chest.

Hannibal pressed his lips tightly, letting his tongue softly click against the roof of his mouth, refusing to move until Will stepped back. Will turned around, as he pressed a shaking hand to his forehead feeling a headache beginning to creep at the base of his neck, crawling up his nape and spreading over his skull. He heard shuffling as Hannibal slid his feet into his slippers, cleared his throat loudly and moved with his cold elegance into their room, closing the door quickly yet softly behind him.

Will dry swallowed two Advil from the medicine drawer to the right of the sink. He gave himself fifteen minutes to calm his nerves, before heading to the bedroom, seeing that Hannibal had already settled into bed, facing the wall and flush with the edge of his end.

Will slept fitfully that night with as much distance between the two men as the bed would allow.

\---------------

The symptoms began slowly, inching onwards and surfacing in ways that led him to believe stress to be the likely instigator.

The first signs consisted of his snappy, agitated remarks and the ceaseless headaches.

Several days had passed since their uprooting, and while there was a silent forgiveness settled between them, Will could not help but continue to hint at his underlying discontent with matter.

“The dog seems agitated. Perhaps we should drop anchor and allow her to roam in the water.” Hannibal stated, as Ripper whined and pressed against his burgundy swim trunk-clad legs. “If you would like to join me in a dip to cool off, you are welcome to.”

“She’s probably restless because she’d grown accustomed to having actual _land_ to run on. But by all means, do as you please.” Will retorted, scrolling through the journal article he had been reading on his ipad, head resting against the hand that sat upright on the table.

Hannibal frowned, eyes narrowing in silent displeasure.

“I do not appreciate your continued push back Will. It is unbecoming of you.” The European man, beckoned to the dog, climbing up to the deck.

Will’s seated position was softly displaced with the lurch of the boat as it settled, listening as the anchor was dropped, followed by a round of happy barks and splashes. The pressure eating his head alive was exacerbated with the slight movement, a loud inhale followed by a keening exhale escaping his nostrils. He didn’t mean to come off so rigid recently but dealing with change had never been his forte. The thought that he may very well be exhausting Hannibal’s patience and calm demeanor seemed to swirl around his mind dizzyingly, but fear gave way to regret as his sympathetic nervous system seemed to kick in. Will could feel every hair on his scalp pull painfully, could feel his teeth ache, and his jaw clench. Goosebumps covered his exposed arms, his heart throbbing in tempo with the pounding behind his eyes. Without his approval, his head dropped onto the table as he gave in to the sudden exhaustion weighing into him, the ripples and sloshes of waves informing him of Ripper and Hannibal’s disruption of the calm waters disappeared until darkness swallowed him whole.

It wasn’t long before a firm hand pressed into his shoulder, shaking him awake delicately as a deep voice broke through the sleep-laden murkiness of his hearing. Looking up, Will saw the other man, water still dripping down his chest, skin smelling of saltwater and heat. His hair was disheveled, from towel drying, the cloth still wrapped around his neck. He assumed the dog had been dried off, as he heard the sound of parched laps at the water bowl.

“Finding you asleep at the table midday is disconcerting taking into account the way in which you downed the majority of this morning’s coffee.”

Will grumbled his dissatisfaction at being abruptly awoken as he pushed himself out from behind the table and swung his legs over the side of the bench to face his partner. Hannibal knelt in front of him on one knee, taking his head between both hands and tilting it upwards, peering at the glazed look in the younger man’s eyes. Will batted away Hannibal’s attempts at checking his temperature.

“I’m fine, just had a headache. The stress is getting to me. I’m sorry I’ve been barking at you the last few days. It seems like my worry for us has taken up home in the back of mind for the time being.”

Hannibal smiled at him in response, standing back up and placing a hand on Will’s shoulder as he stood up beside him. Will laid his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, slim fingers coming up to card through the curls in the back of his head, massaging gently and providing respite causing the shorter man to hum in peace.

“Once you have lunch and ibuprofen in your system we can settle on the couch and rest together. Ripper seems to have enjoyed the swim, as did I, though it would have proven far more enjoyable with your company.”

Will snorted, as he pulled his head back.

“Only one of us is allowed to be clingy in this relationship Hannibal.”

The Lithuanian man’s chuckle may have accentuated the pain in his head once more, but it was dutifully ignored, pleasure of hearing the man’s laugh overriding the ache.

“Come Will, there is leftover sirloin and caprese salad from last night.”

\---------------

The unease heightened in the coming weeks when Will’s memory and focus began to lapse.

“You have the list correct?’

“Yes Hannibal, all fifteen million things you requested for your cooking. It’s safe and at my disposal. The foreign market is only a twenty-minute walk straight shot, easily doable even for a befuddled man such as myself. Keep your phone on. I might text you to clarify some of these things. What even is Amchur powder?” Will squinted and angled the list slightly to read Hannibal’s fine cursive.

“It is spice made of unripe mangos which have been sun-dried. The powder has a specific sweet, fruity flavor and a somewhat astringent aroma to contrast. Commonly utilized in Indian curries. Now, cease your digressing and please leave before the market closes. I would hate to be left with only you as a source of food.” Hannibal beamed up slyly at will, as he peeled the carrots, leaving the shavings to fall into the red-speckled plastic bowl that sat in front of him.

With a roll of his eyes and a guffaw, Will stepped up out of the cabin and off the boat. The day was cloudy, and slightly chilly, but not enough so that it bothered him much. The fresh air was always welcomed compared to that of the cabin which had a knack of feeling stale and cramped when occupied for too long. Hannibal had left him directions on the sheet of which roads to take. Straight ahead, two rights and a left. Only a few blocks away. He let his mind wander slightly, thinking about their cabin at Greece, feeling a longing sadness at the job he could have had. Will hated to admit he actually missed teaching. Something about being able to share the horrors he had dealt with made him feel more human. Knowing he was praised by students with positive affirmations of sorts drove him towards wanting to continue his work in education. Anything that made him happy, was something he wanted to keep around.

Reaching the market, he was quick to pull out the tote bags he had balled up into this coat pockets, and the yellow creased list. The market was sectioned off by regions and countries making accessibility to associated ingredients far easier for someone who had no idea what the difference between a yam and a sweet potato was. Will could tell someone about the ins and outs of the psychopath’s mind, but when it came to cooking, he fell short.

Pulling out his phone while holding two packages of tofu in his hands, Will quickly shot a text to Hannibal.

WILL: Is silken tofu not just regular tofu???

HANNIBAL: I am wounded by that question. Clearly, I have done poorly by these cultures in teaching you about the culinary arts.

WILL: If I don’t get an answer to the question, I’ll be coming home tofu-less.

HANNIBAL: Silken tofu is far softer than regular tofu. I plan to use it as a dairy substitute in a Chinese pudding.

WILL: Honestly just seems like semantics to me, but I will oblige.

Softly placing the tofu in the bottom of the plastic woven tote, Will moved onto the next ingredient on the list. Though he battled with confusion on several more items, nearly all had been acquired in half an hour. He gave a curt nod, as he paid the vendors, palming the loose change that was returned to him. The entirety of the trip had gone smoothly, no hiccups aside from the uncertainty, but it was as Will opened the door and stepped out that he was struck with a sudden out pour of terror.

The list sat ruffled in his hand, directions still scribbled onto it. Bags of ingredients dropped from his grasp as he stood stalk still and pale on the side of the street. Will was aware that the door he exited had been the same door he’d entered in, was aware that the location had not changed during his time shopping. But everything felt distant and unrecognizable. Surely people’s eyes were watching him and burning holes into his form, which at the moment felt incredibly insignificant yet thunderous. Was that his own heart? Could everyone else hear the audible pounding that was roaring in his ears? There was no way they couldn’t hear it, the cars passing by didn’t even cover it up. Will had not even noticed that he’d begun to shake, a full-body visceral reaction to the dread he felt. He was transfixed on the street in front of him, begging to melt away and disappear.

Will couldn’t remember where he was. Failed to reach the conclusion of what city he was in, where their boat was. Where he had _just_ been.

Locals threw cursory glances at the pale man who lingered on the corner, arms down by his sides and his fists balled up tightly, nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave crescent shaped dents.

Minutes passed before Will could get his chest to fall and rise at a steady rhythm, but the consternation tore at his stomach leaving it knotted up and tight. Fumbling for his phone, he let a pale cold finger press speed dial.

“Were you able find everything on the list?”

Will’s lungs hitched up and froze, his eyes darted from peripheral to peripheral. Hannibal would be concerned in a matter of moments, but the feelings choking the younger man left him inarticulate.

“Has something happened?”

Mute. He was voiceless and engulfed by disorientation and agitation.

“Will? Are you alright?”

The unease in Hannibal’s voice was the only sound to break through Will’s disorganized pattern of thought.

“I- I don’t know where I am. I don’t know why I’m here.” Will whispered out quickly in one breath. His voice quivered, shame and paranoia slipping from his lips.

“Stay where you are Will. I’ll be there momentarily. Remain on the call with me for the time being. You went shopping remember? At the local foreign market. Are you in front of the market still?”

Will heard shuffling through the speaker, assuming Hannibal was working quickly to grab his coat and shoes, and the keys to their rented car.

“I think so.” Still in a hushed whisper, his throat raw.

“Discuss the shopping trip with me. Were you able to find everything?”

“I.. think. I… yes. Most of them. A few things they didn’t have. I’m sorry.” Will said, the energy coursing through his body threatened to make his knees lock and send him tumbling into his groceries. Leaning against the brick wall behind him was the only option to combat the inevitable collapse.

The conversation remained short, but continuous in the few minutes it took for Hannibal to arrive in the small gray Audi. Hannibal made quick work of putting the car in park, and brusquely walking over to Will. For a moment Will felt his blood go ice cold when a hand wrapped around his forearm, but recognition of the cologne he smelled pulled him from his fugue. The older man turned Will to him, alarm swimming in the hazel eyes. With fragile care, Will was led to the car, and settled into the passenger seat. The groceries were unceremoniously discarded into the trunk, as Hannibal returned to the driver’s seat and fastened his seat belt. Before pulling out of this parked position, he smoothed a hand over Will’s hair.

“I don’t know what happened. I was there and then suddenly I wasn’t. I was just a player on a stage with absolutely no direction.”

“I can assure you no one was watching you when I arrived. Was there a specific trigger that may have brought this on?” Hannibal asked, head turned to watch behind him as the car rocked back and forth cautiously out of the parallel parking spot.

“I’ve had some trouble sleeping. I’m just still stressed, and this place is new to me. Our cabin in Greece took some time to get familiar with too. I’ll get acclimatized to this city. Just need to get my head straight.”

Against Hannibal’s wishes, Will opted to help him cook that night. The doctor remained on edge, consistently monitoring the man next to him. With a drink of water, and cold water splashed on his face, Will felt whole again as the overwhelming feelings receded. However, in hindsight, he should have listened to Hannibal and just taken a seat beside his dog and relaxed, but he hated feeling incompetent. It left him fidgety and restless. It was only when the knife he had been slicing tomatoes with slipped, plunging into the soft skin between his thumb and forefinger did Will realize that he hadn’t even been looking down at the cutting board at all. Hannibal was the first to respond to the sharp grunt Will made, turning quickly to catch sight of the blood staining the bamboo board.

The dark red liquid pinged into the metal basin, splashing the edges of the sink lightly, as Will was easily yanked to place his hand over it, a soft _ouch_ issuing from him. The tap was turned on to a low pressure, as the tepid water ran over the wound, unveiling a deep slice a few inches wide. Paper towels were quickly wrapped around his hand, and direct pressure applied as the cut stung aggressively.

Hannibal peeled the paper towels away, to run Will’s hand under the water once more, allowing him to see the extent of the cut as blood was washed away from it.

“It’s not that bad, just get me a band-aid or something.”

“It _is_ that bad Will. The location of the slice will make it difficult to heal without reopening. Hold pressure as I grab the first aid kit.”

He wrapped his own hand around the wound, as if he were shaking hands with himself, and pressed down. Will hadn’t even truly felt the knife slip, wasn’t sure where his mind had been at all. It was as if he’d had no control in that moment. The other man-made quick work of returning, snapping on gloves and switching out paper towels with sterile gauze.

“There is a foreboding sense that this is a part of something much larger.” Hannibal declared solemnly.

“It’s not that.”

Hannibal looked up at him, pausing in between placing steri-strips over the slice. Neither man wanted to say the words that scared the both of them. Returning to place the last strips and wrap his hand tightly in gauze before placing a thumb splint over the bandages, Hannibal made a sound of disapproval. The unpleasant hush gnawed at Will, as he tried to move his thumb, frowning when he was met with resistance by the hard splint.

“Stop that. The wound will not heal if you tamper with the splint.” Hannibal said, as he crumpled the stray bandage and gauze packaging in the palm of his gloved right hand. He looked up at the younger man, but Will adamantly avoided the eyes that threatened to shatter the protective dam he'd constructed in his mind.

“It’s not what you think it is. I already told you. I’m overwhelmed and over tired. There’s been major changes in our routines recently. Not everyone can shift around and cope as easily as you can. We can’t jump to the worst-case conclusion just because it happened before.” He did his best to keep himself calm, the concept becoming a seed of worry, planted, and cultivating in his thoughts.

The older man stood up, stripping the gloves off his hands, and laying them overtop the ruined tomatoes. A metallic odor had collected in the tense air, as Hannibal placed one hand in the pocket of his slacks. Tilting his head to look at Will he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by other man.

“Don’t look at me like that. Not with sorrow filled eyes. I don’t want pity. The whole thing earlier just got to me and the knife slipped. Stop implanting those thoughts in my mind, knowing damn well how it’ll stick with me.”

“That was not my intention Will. I am merely troubled by the onslaught of sudden symptoms. Your headaches are still occurring correct? If you insist things are well than I believe you. I trust that if something were to be the matter that you would come to me when the time is ready. Your dismissive tone is unwarranted.”

“Then stop analyzing me like I’m one of your patients.”

Dinner was completed in a dead air. Will wasn’t sure if it was the churning of his stomach or the waves of the ocean beneath him, but the food sloshed painfully with every bite.

He didn’t fall asleep that night, even as Hannibal wrapped his arms around him, and softly huffed into Will’s neck while he slept.

Will was abrupt to blame the lack of sleep and a Freudian slip when he asked Molly to hand him the used kitchen towels two days later, as he was doing laundry. Hannibal had paused while organizing the dish cupboards, the words he spoke in response to Will’s comment were lost in the quick succession of events as the younger man dumped the laundry in the machine, plodded into one of the empty cabin bedrooms and slammed the door shut with the echoing click of a lock being the last sound heard.

\---------------

When Will was startled awake by a crack of thunder, and cold rain lapping at his skin, he realized he may very well not be alright. It was by sheer luck that he awoke when he did, as his bare feet stood precariously close to the edge of the boat, toes curling over and hugging the hull. The waist high metal supports were the only element between him and the dark ocean. Eyes going wide, he turned and moved quickly, however, carefully so as not to slip on the deck, which was wet and glistening from the downpour. While Hannibal remained blissfully unaware continuing to doze, Will toweled himself off in the bathroom, mouthing a small _thank god,_ and donned a knew, dry shirt and pair of boxers. His skull was buzzing and throbbing dully, his body feeling feverish despite having stood out in freezing rain for what was likely an unholy amount of time.

Sleep walking was not synonymous with stress. Will didn’t need a doctor to tell him that. The beast had been left to sit and ulcerate his consciousness. A predator waiting to ambush its’ prey. His body was attacking his brain again, it was undeniable at this stage. Antibodies create by his own lymphocytes were targeting the receptors in his brain once more. There was no option of a hospital, or care to that extent. No MRI, no treatment available to them in their circumstances. The notion that he was going to endure the suffering as he had previously, that he was going to continue to decline while the antibodies invaded his mind made Will want to curl up and sob, or to scream. Presumably, both.

Hannibal shifted lightly in his sleep, stretching out and brushing his hand across Will’s neck, as he slowly came into awareness. The younger man watched his brow furrow, and felt Hannibal place his hand against his neck once more, before sliding it up to his cheek.

“Do you feel ill? You’re warm.”

“I started feeling off yesterday. Just feels like a cold, maybe a sinus infection. Nothing major.”

The older man contemplated for a second, sitting up slowly and rolling his shoulders back, neck titling side to side to crack the stiffness from sleep. As he slipped on his robe and slippers, Will turned over to his side, hugging Ripper closely his chest as she joined him on the bed. The sound of a boiling pot of water whistled out not long after the other man had left, followed by the clinking of mugs, as Hannibal returned with 2 ceramic cups of steeping tea.

“Echinacea tea is a popular remedy to shorten the lifespan of a cold. It’s a flower in the same family as daisies, displaying health benefits such as reducing inflammation, improving one’s immune system, and lowering blood glucose levels.” Hannibal explained as he handed the mug to the younger man, who cupped it softly between his hands letting the steam warm his chilled face.

“May you look at me please Will?”

Feeling his heart leap into his throat, Will took a small sip, his tongue scalded as it burned its way down his throat.

“Was I mistaken in surmising that you would be entirely honest with me?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you Hannibal.” Will spat back with instant remorse, as he took note of the older man’s face which was creased in distress and clearly troubled.

“Omission of outright truth is still classified as a lie. You should know that best with your history in law enforcement.”

Shifting slowly, Will placed the mug to sit on the free surface next to his side of the bed. The quiet was uncomfortable, but he opted to offer no retort.

“Trust is a fruit born of a tree built by two Will. I do not condone this version of self-harm you seem to be indulging in. You are suffering from an ailment that I am acutely unaware of, seemingly taking advantage of the fact that my keen olfactory capabilities were diminished by the concussion I obtained during our plunge into the ocean. Continuation of this neglect in regard to your health troubles me greatly.”

Will wanted to lash out and throw every ounce of his fear and spite into the open, aiming directly at the man who spoke to him with perturbation.

“You shove these unrelated situations under one perception. Like I said before, likely just a cold Hannibal. I need rest, some pain medication and something to help me sleep.”

Will nearly muttered the words _it’s not like I’m dying_ but he paused before doing so, the awareness of the irony in that statement making him squirm. Instead, he slipped back under the covers quickly and turned to face the wall. There was no purpose in telling Hannibal what was going on with the knowledge that any attempt at admitting him to a hospital would push them into the light of searching eyes and expose the safety they had spent painstakingly keeping themselves under the radar. The symptoms were slow moving, and though the sleep walking incident could’ve have been dire, he would take precautionary measures in securing doors before going to sleeping from now on.

Hannibal’s hands pulled the covers delicately up to Will’s chin and smoothed out the rumpled fabric at the end of the bed. As the other man pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, Will hugged Ripper closer.

He despised himself.

\---------------

His eyes slipped shut, warm water cascading over his body as Hannibal worked a hand through his hair with the scent of sandalwood shampoo floating through the spray. Hannibal’s chest was to Will’s back, and he leaned into the warmth and comfort it provided him. The low hum of a sonata drifting from his partner’s chest eased Will of all thoughts.

It took only the seconds when Hannibal turned Will away so as to wash the soap off his own skin for the world to go floaty and skewed. When Will saw the older man’s eyes widen slightly, pupil’s dilating, his own body seemed to halt for a moment. A muted clicking noise bounced off the sides of the shower, the cause lost to Will as his ears rang making it far harder to make out the words Hannibal’s thin lips were forming. The last thought on his mind before he slipped into silent darkness was that something felt terribly and dreadfully wrong in that moment.

Feeling returned slowly, and painfully. Will was laid on his side, his body sitting half in the shower stall, and half out on the tiles of the bathroom floor. The water cascading down and drying on his skin felt cold, as he shivered lightly. Every bone and muscle felt heavy, blood caked to his teeth, and a chunk of his tongue throbbing in a consistent rhythm.

The blurry face above him must have noticed his trembling, as a heavy white towel was draped over him with the utmost of care.

“Will? Are you back with me?”

He tried to talk, to confess everything to the man looking down at him, as his head lay in Hannibal’s towel-wrapped lap. However, only disarticulated sounds tumbled from his mouth, spit and blood trickling out the side.

“You don’t need to speak yet. Let your body readjust Will. Stay calm and relaxed.” Hannibal soothed him, running his hands up and down Will’s exposed ribcage slowly to quell his discomfort.

“-happened?” Syllables were dragged out with effort. A full sentence would not be feasible in his state, forming a coherent thought was already sucking every ounce of energy from him.

“I heard you smacking your lips while in the shower. Your eyes were glassy and unfocused before the tonic-clonic spasms began. It was a generalized seizure that lasted only a minute under what would have been diagnosed as status. After it occurred you were post-ictal, thrashing and crying out for no more than ten minutes.”

Will whined, as the uncoordinated movement of one of his arms sliding up towards Hannibal resulted in him pressing his weak fist to his mouth on the side with the swollen tongue which should very much _not_ be touched right now.

“You’ve known what this was haven’t you?” Hannibal whispered taking Will’s hand into his own and pressing his lips to it before placing it back down to Will’s side.

A droopy nod was the only response he had control over.

“There will be a crucial discussion about your ability to care for yourself once you are better. For now, wade back into your stream Will. I have you.”

Unable to assert his opinion on the fact, Will let himself be dragged by the rush of the white waters.

\---------------

A pinch in the crook of his arm was what brought Will back to the land of the living. Eyes quickly opening, he tried to draw his arm back swiftly, away from the offending jab and associated strangulating pressure on his upper arm. The action was countered by a larger hand straightening Will’s elbow out and withdrawing the butterfly needle that had started to slide into his vein.

“What are you doin’?” Will’s tongue moved sluggishly, dragging across the roof of his mouth, and lolling out awkwardly.

Hannibal smoothed the bangs from the other man’s forehead and smiled down at him with a tight-lipped grin. He took note of the left side of Hannibal’s face; a neat row of stitches, and a purple bruise over his cheek, sneaking around his eye ending at a narrow split in this brow.

“-re you okay?”

“I assure you I am fine. Be at ease Will and sit back. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for nearly two days.”

Will’s eyes scanned the room as he moved slowly down back into the fluff of the pillows beneath him, a sense of vague unfamiliarity. Instead of the boat they had been occupying, he was lying on a queen-sized mattress in a desolate cabin, a fire burning in the corner of the one room suite. There was a machine to his right that appeared to be a smaller version of a dialysis device, an intravenous line already situated in his left arm, and a bag of saline hanging from a pole next to the machine.

“I was able to procure supplies, the appropriate medications and a prescription pad from an extended clinic several towns over. You should be quite familiar with the process of plasmapheresis administration as of now. The steroids are the first-line treatment, but the plasmapheresis should work to clear the antibodies attacking the receptors in your brain. Without an MRI I am unable to determine the precise location of your inflammation, but with due time and treatment the relapse will be managed. Intravenous steroids will be started this afternoon after your first plasma replacement round.”

Ghosting his hand over Hannibal’s face once the second line had been placed, Will’s brow furrowed into a look of anguish. The European man shook his head slightly, clearing his throat.

“Do not be alarmed by the injuries you see; they are minor in contrast to your illness. Certain measures were taken to safeguard the both of us. Had I had the choice to flee without an altercation I would have chosen to do so. Remission will be more straightforward as opposed to your previous hospitalization, as your symptoms were still in early stages and less frequent. Lie back, and I will bring you something to eat and drink that will be easy on your stomach. When I return, we will be having an imperative conversation about your personal regard to your health.”

Weariness ate at the younger man’s bones, the hushed whirring of the machine as it worked to draw his blood and re-administer plasma into his veins being the only sound. There was no outward pain, rather the discomfort of the catheters situated in his arms, and his bruised dignity. Returning from the adjacent kitchenette, Hannibal carried a wooden fold out tray with a roll of crackers, and a lukewarm ginger tea.

Studying Hannibal’s appearance, he noticed the melancholy and fear mingled behind his eyes. Will had, beyond a doubt, sincerely messed up this time. Retribution was inevitable.

“Hannibal, I’m so-“

“This is the point in which I get to speak, Will.” The older man’s statement terse, sharply directed at the lithe form under the duvet.

Relinquishing his power to the man sat in the aged wooden chair beside him seemed like the best idea in this scenario.

“Have I not shown you that I am willing to go to all lengths to protect you Will? I’ve come to trust you with my life over the years since we abandoned our old lives, yet you linger when trusting me with yours. You are too valuable to me to lose, above all else to something that can be treated and managed with early intervention, and had you come to me early on, this entire plight would have been avoided. Life is a precious thing, a possession of mortality that man has a tendency of exhausting, and you are no different than the rest.” Hannibal lamented.

“It was stupid, I know. I got scared, I thought it could just dissipate on its’ own-“

“I have yet to finish, so be silent.

Will shrunk back, making himself as small as possible on the oversized bed, currently only occupied by himself and the red setter snoozing lightly beside him. This was a version Hannibal he had never seen.

“What measures will it take for you to fathom that you are worth more than what you believe? If not to yourself, then at the least to me. This rampage of recklessness ends here Will. I will not stand by your continued self-harm and let you plunge between the rugged cracks of your own creation. Have more respect for the both of us when you reach a crossroads of decisions. Be pragmatic in your considerations rather than an onlooker to your own existence. You may see me as impermeable to care and fear, but I can confirm that I to am human.”

The unsettling minute waver in Hannibal’s voice was electively ignored, indiscernible from the irritation that seemed to ebb and flow through the Lithuanian man’s blood stream.

As his scolding remarks came to an end, he grasped Will’s hand in his own, and inhaled deeply, stroking his other hand down the back of Will’s arm.

Right there, in a dreary cabin situated not far inland from the pier, Will Graham felt like a tree whose roots had shriveled up and collapsed beneath him. Keeping his eyes on his toes which extended and flexed under the blankets, he fiddled with one of the capped off ports of his IV, the lines on his other arm pulling slightly in retaliation. His hand was gingerly pushed away in an attempt to prevent the tubing from dislodging, as Hannibal tsked him for his childish action. Few times in his life had he been rendered thoughtless and dumbfounded, but he had no response to give the other man. No words in his arsenal would make this instantly better, would make Hannibal forgive him right then and there for his idiocy. Will’s internal reflection was abruptly disrupted when a pleasantly warm hand lifted his chin up.

“Please let me in Will. Stray not inwards to your cavern of self-destruction, but rather towards the open field to harvest the lilies and the roses.”


End file.
